


Waiting

by Dancingsalome



Category: The Historian - Elizabeth Kostova
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/pseuds/Dancingsalome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dracula's thoughts about the narrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

She was perfect. She had to be perfect, with the blood of so many great minds running in her veins. His own blood. And she was beautiful. Not that he really cared, it was what was behind those elegant dark features that he wanted. But he had always appreciated beauty, and her dark face with those startingly blue eyes, was a suitable frame for her thoughts.

But she was too young. Brilliant she may be, but her thoughts were still too unmature. If he picked her now, she would never grow, and she would be stunted, forever not quite what she was destined for. He had to wait. After all, what was time? Ten years, fifteen, perhaps even twenty, and she would be ready. The perfect partner, his queen. What he had waited for over the centuries. What he had thought he had found in Rossi, and perhaps had, if Rossi had not been snatched from him. What he had hoped for in Helen, and almost got before she had dared to reject him. She had dared to reject him, and for that she would have to pay.

He had her now, the daughter. In essence his daughter, not only for the blood in her. She would never had been if he hadn't created her. So carefully moving the right people over long years and vast distances. That she breathed, laughed, talked- it was all his doing, and it was his right to take her life. Her courage and her determination thrilled him, but he would not give her any choice- not when it was time.

Still. When he watched her with that whelp, that puppy that followed her with such adoring eyes, he felt anger. She was his, and his alone. Even if he ripped the boy's throat open, there would be others, and he could not stop that. He could not carry her away now, he had to let her blossom first, but he was loath to share her.

There was a way... He felt no need for physical love, the flowing blood was a much more satifying way to secure his offspring, but he still had the ability. And though he could not recollect ever feeling it himself, he was well versed of the nature shame. He would take her, and she would be shamed. Body, and blood, there had to be a first time for him to taste her blood, and if he did that to her at the same time, she would be his. Her shame would secure her for him. Yes, that was what he would do. After he had killed her friends, he would wall her up inside her own mind. He would leave her with a double stigma, and that humiliation would keep her safe for him.

Then he could safely wait until she was truly ready for him. He would get what he wanted in the end. He was a prince, a warrior, a scholar. In the end he would win. He always won, one way, or another.

 

END


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